Page 127 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
"Gabriel didn't protect Dwayne." The words come out harder than I intended. "Hekilledhim."
Silence.
My mother stares at me, her face frozen.
"What did you say?"
"Gabriel was one of Dwayne's students. One of his victims." I force myself to hold her gaze. "For two years, Dwayne did to him what he did to all those other boys. Gabriel was sixteen when he killed him. Sixteen years old, and he ended the man who was destroying him."
"The student who—" My mother's hand goes to her throat. "The man you're involved with... he's the one who killed your father?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't know? When you got involved with him, you didn't know about the connection?"
"No. Neither did he. It only came out recently." I take a breath. "Gabriel didn't know Dwayne had a girlfriend who was pregnant. He didn't know about me. He killed his tormentor to protect himself, and he had no idea he was... that Dwayne was..."
I can't say the words.My father.
My mother is quiet for a long moment, processing everything I've told her. I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes—the fear, the confusion, the desperate attempt to reconcile what she's hearing with everything she thought she knew.
"He's an Ambrose," she says finally. "Whatever else he is, he comes from that world. The same world that protected Dwayne."
"I know."
"And you're still with him? Even knowing what his family represents?"
"It's complicated, Mom.He'scomplicated. He's not the man I thought he was, but he's not... he's not purely evil either. He was a victim too."
"Victims can become monsters."
"I know." I meet her eyes. "But I'm not ready to make any decisions about him yet. That's why I'm here. That's why I needed to talk to you first."
My mother studies my face, searching for something I'm not sure I can give her. Then her expression shifts—softens into something that looks almost like resignation.
"There's something else, isn't there?" she asks quietly. "Something you haven't told me."
I should have known she'd see it. She's my mother—she's always been able to read me, even when I tried to hide.
"Yes," I whisper. "There's something else."
"Tell me."
I take a breath. Close my eyes. And finally say the words out loud.
"I'm pregnant."
The silence that follows is absolute.
My mother doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't even seem to breathe. She just stares at me, her face frozen in an expression I can't read.
"Pregnant," she finally repeats. "You're pregnant with his child. An Ambrose child."
"Yes."
"How long have you known?"
"About a week. I haven't told him yet." I laugh weakly. "I haven't told anyone. You're the first."
